Playing the Villain for Ninety Days

My wife attended a client appreciation dinner, where my business partner, Richard Dalton, dragged her into a private dining room and assaulted her.

I was right next door. I heard her screaming my name, her voice tearing at the seams, but I never pushed that door open.

Afterward, she broke down and called the cops.

On the day of the trial, I took the witness stand and testified that it was consensual. I told the court that she was the one who undressed and climbed onto his lap.

The judge ruled right then and there: insufficient evidence. Richard was acquitted.

My wife smashed her stainless-steel Yeti tumbler directly into my forehead.

"Jack Colins, I want a divorce. You're a monster."

Everyone said I was an animal. A coward. A piece of trash.

But nobody knew that I had been waiting for this exact day for three agonizing months.

...

"Jack! Get out here right now!"

Isabelles voice chased me down the courthouse corridor.

I didn't turn around.

Blood was pooling at my eyebrow, tracing a hot, wet line down my cheek. She had swung that tumbler with everything she had, splitting the skin clean open.

"Stop right there!"

She lunged forward, grabbing my arm and jerking my entire body around to face her.

Her face was a mess of running mascara and tears, her eyes swollen into thin slits.

"How could you perjure yourself for him?"

I looked down at her. I didn't say a word.

"I am your wife! I was violated! You were right outside that door! You heard me! Why didn't you come in?!"

Her fists hammered against my chest. One after another.

There wasn't much physical force behind them, but the rhythm grew frantic, desperate.

"Tell me why!"

I raised my hand, catching her wrists and peeling her fingers away from my collar.

"Stop making a scene."

Four words.

It was as if those four words drained the last drop of life from her. Isabelle stumbled a half-step backward.

"Stop making a scene?"

She laughed. A hollow, broken sound that shook loose more tears.

"You're telling me to stop making a scene?"

"I was pinned against a table by your partner. My dress was ripped open. You were standing right outside. I screamed your name seventeen times, Jack. Seventeen times. And you didn't make a sound."

"And now you're telling me to stop making a scene?"

I shifted my gaze past her shoulder.

At the end of the hallway, a group of people was marching toward us.

Her father, Robert. Her mother, Martha. Along with her cousin, Jessica, and Jessicas husband, Todd.

I wiped the blood from my jaw with the back of my hand and turned to walk away.

Isabelle threw herself at my back, wrapping her arms in a death grip around my waist.

"You are not walking away until you give me the truth."

"I already gave you the truth."

My voice was dead flat.

"Every single word I said on that stand was a fact."

Her arms went slack.

As if she no longer had the strength to hold onto anything in this world.

"Jack."

Her tone shifted. It was no longer a question.

It was pure, concentrated hatred.

"The biggest regret of my life is marrying you."

"I'm divorcing you."

"Okay."

I dropped the word like a stone and stepped toward the exit.

Roberts slap landed faster than I anticipated.

"Crack."

My head snapped violently to the side.

"You son of a bitch!"

Robert was shaking from head to toe, his chest heaving.

"I gave you my daughter's hand, and this is how you protect her?"

I steadied my footing. I kept my hands at my sides.

"Robert"

"Don't you dare call me by my name!" He swung again, the back of his hand catching my jaw. "You don't have the right!"

Martha shoved her way to the front and spat directly into my face.

"You're not a man."

"A grown man, listening to his own wife get ripped apart, standing outside a door like a statue. Are you just useless, or are you an accomplice?"

I wiped my face with my sleeve.

"Martha, are you done?"

"Done? I want to kill you with my bare hands!"

Todd, the cousin's husband, surged forward and grabbed me by the lapels of my suit.

"How do you have the nerve to even stand upright, Jack? You should be on your knees begging Isabelle for forgiveness."

I met his eyes.

"Let go."

"Are you threatening me, you piece of shit?"

"There are court bailiffs right inside those doors," I said, my tone completely devoid of emotion. "You throw a punch, I press charges. Assault is a felony, Todd. You're a smart guy. Do the math."

Todds fist froze in mid-air.

Robert stepped up, pulling his son-in-law back, before turning his furious glare back to me.

"Jack, for the sake of the man I thought you were, I'm going to ask you one last time."

"Why did you cover for Richard Dalton?"

"How much did he pay you?"

I looked past them, toward the glass doors of the courthouse. A black SUV was idling by the curb, the tinted window rolled halfway down.

"There's nothing to explain."

"You!"

Martha lunged at me again, throwing wild slaps and kicks.

The rest of the extended family swarmed in, a chorus of screaming, spitting venom.

Someone tossed a cup of muddy coffee from God knows where. It splashed across my hair and face.

I stood exactly where I was, letting them shove me back and forth.

The blood from my forehead mixed with the cold coffee, staining the entire front of my white dress shirt a dark, rust-colored brown.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

I didn't take it out.

It wasn't time yet.

The crowd was still screaming when a shrill voice pierced through the chaos.

"Excuse me! Make way! Press!"

A woman in jeans holding a phone mounted on a gimbal shoved her way to the front, pointing the lens directly at my face.

"Hi, Kelly here from Metro True Crime. Sir, there are allegations online that you just committed perjury to protect your wife's rapist. Is that true?"

On her screen, the live chat was scrolling so fast it was a blur.

Jessica, the cousin, immediately pushed her face into the frame.

"It's true! He's the monster husband! His wife was assaulted, he did nothing to save her, and then he testified for the predator!"

The vlogger pivoted the camera to Jessica, who fed off the attention, her voice growing hysterical.

"My cousin has done nothing but suffer since she married him! She takes care of the house, raised their kid, works a full-time job. And what does he do? He sells her out!"

The comment section exploded.

"Die, trash."

"Dox him."

"Waste of oxygen."

The vlogger turned the camera back to me.

"Sir, do you have a statement?"

I gave her a long, hard look.

I didn't answer. I turned to walk down the steps.

"He's running! Look at him run! Guilty!" Jessica shrieked behind me.

Robert grabbed my shoulder in a vice grip.

"You aren't going anywhere."

I stopped.

My phone buzzed again.

I looked down and tapped the screen.

One new message.

"Still tracking the ping. Give me two more hours."

I locked the screen and slid the phone back into my pocket.

When I looked up, my face was a mask of stone.

"Fine. We'll do this here."

"What exactly do you all want to hear?"

Martha pointed a trembling finger at my nose. "I want you to tell the world the truth! How much blood money did Richard give you?"

"I answered that on the stand," I said, my voice steady enough to cut glass.

"I didn't take a dime from anyone."

"I told the absolute truth."

"That night, Isabelle wanted it. She initiated it."

The second the words left my mouth, the entire crowd surged toward me.

But then, the heavy courthouse doors swung open.

Richard Dalton walked out.

Immaculate custom suit, perfectly dimpled tie, wearing the relaxed, arrogant smirk of a man who just bought his way to an acquittal.

He paused when he saw the mob on the steps.

Robert was the first to break from the crowd, sprinting toward him.

"Dalton! You animal! Look me in the eye!"

I moved.

Two quick steps, and I inserted myself directly between Robert and Richard.

"Robert, we are on federal property. What are you doing?"

"Get out of my way!"

"I can't do that."

"Jack!" Robert's voice broke, vibrating with a profound, sickening disbelief. "You're still protecting him?"

"The court ruled." I spoke as casually as if I were reading a weather report. "He's an innocent man. You put hands on an innocent man, that's aggravated assault."

Martha charged forward like a woman possessed.

"I don't care what the corrupt court says! He destroyed my daughter! You destroyed my daughter! I hope you both burn in hell!"

I extended my arms, keeping her a safe distance away.

Richard stood behind me. He didn't flinch.

He pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, sparked a cigarette, and took a slow drag.

"Go to the car, Rich," I said, not looking back.

"It's on the left."

Richard clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Jack. You're a real one."

I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Dinner's on me next week."

He stepped around the screaming family, making his way down the steps to the idling black SUV.

Just before he pulled the door handle, he looked back at me.

The smile was gone.

It was replaced by a look of profound, aristocratic pity.

"You're a good guy, Jack. It's a damn shame you married a slut and had to clean up her mess."

He climbed in, and the heavy door slammed shut.

The tires squealed, and the car vanished into traffic.

In a split second, the entirety of the crowd's wrath refocused onto me.

"Jack! You just let him walk away?!"

Isabelle's voice cut through the noise.

She was leaning heavily on Jessica, looking as though her bones had turned to glass.

"Are you even human?"

I turned around and faced her.

Her face was stained with tears, her eyes bloodshot, radiating an agonizing hatred.

"Isabelle, I told you. This ends today."

"Ends today?" Her voice cracked into a shriek. "He destroyed my body, he destroyed my reputation, he destroyed my life, and you say it ends today?"

"The judge made the ruling."

"He ruled that way because you lied under oath!"

She stumbled forward, only to be yanked back by her cousin.

"Why did you say those things? Why did you say I wanted it? You heard me! You were right there!"

I didn't answer.

Suddenly, someone in the crowd yelled.

"He's here! Her brother's here!"

A pickup truck slammed on its brakes at the curb.

Mark leaped out of the driver's seat. He didn't even bother shutting the door before he was sprinting up the steps.

He hit the concrete like he wanted to shatter the earth beneath him.

"Jack!"

Before my brain could register the movement, his boot connected squarely with my stomach.

I folded in half, my knees crashing onto the hard pavement.

He grabbed handfuls of my ruined shirt and hauled me upward.

"How the fuck do you dare show your face?"

He was so close I could smell the adrenaline on him. His eyes were wild, fully bloodshot.

"What did I tell you the day I gave my baby sister away to you?"

"I told you if you ever hurt her, I would break your legs."

He slammed me back down onto the concrete.

Then he bent over and hauled me up by the collar again.

"Three years. Three years. My sister gave you three years of her life. Do you have any idea what she's sacrificed for you?"

I stayed down on the ground.

Not because I couldn't get up.

Because I didn't want to.

The phone in my pocket vibrated against my thigh.

I lay on the pavement and subtly angled my head to glance at the glowing lock screen.

"Location locked. En route. ETA 1 hour 40 minutes."

I squeezed my eyes shut.

"I have to survive another hour and a half."

"Do you people even know what else he did?"

Isabelle's voice suddenly shifted pitch.

The hysterical, piercing anger was gone, replaced by a hollow, bottomless despair.

The entire crowd fell dead silent, turning to look at her.

She stood in the center of the ring, her body trembling violently, her lips quivering.

"Our daughter... Sophie."

"We lost Sophie in March."

Martha gasped, a horrible, choking sound. "What? Sophie? What happened to my grandbaby?"

Isabelle buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

"You told us Jack's mother took Sophie to stay with her!" Martha rushed forward, grabbing her daughter's shoulders. "Tell me! What happened to her?"

Isabelle slowly lifted her head, her tear-soaked face locking onto mine.

"It's because of him."

"He was gambling. He owed sixty grand to loan sharks. They came to the house. It was just me and Sophie."

"They demanded the money. I told them we didn't have it, and they..."

Her voice shattered into pieces.

"They shoved Sophie. Her head hit the corner of the coffee table..."

"By the time the ambulance arrived, she was gone."

Marthas legs gave out. She collapsed onto the hard concrete.

"My grandbaby... my sweet Sophie..."

Robert's face turned the color of wet ash.

"Why didn't you call us? Why didn't you tell me?"

Isabelle shook her head frantically. "I couldn't bear to break your hearts. And I was terrified they'd come after you. The men told me if I went to the cops, they'd kill my whole family."

"So I swallowed it."

"I carried it all alone."

"And him?" She pointed a shaking finger at me. "He's still gambling. Still racking up debt. Wasn't my daughter's life enough?"

The bystanders were circling tighter now.

Phones were out, red recording lights blinking everywhere.

Whispers hissed through the crowd: "This guy got his own kid killed, and then covered for a rapist?"

I remained on my knees, listening to every word.

I didn't defend myself. Not once.

Robert walked slowly over to me. His voice sounded like grinding stones.

"Jack. Is this true?"

I looked up at him.

"Trust your daughter."

That was all I said.

I lowered my head and checked my watch.

"You're checking the time?!"

Mark stomped his boot down onto my wrist, pinning it to the ground.

"Got an appointment at the casino? Or a brothel?"

White-hot pain shot up my arm, but I swallowed the groan.

"I'm going to count to three," Mark sneered, leaning over me. "And you're going to tell the truth about the debt. Did you get Sophie killed?"

I stayed silent.

"One."

Silence.

"Two."

He pressed his heel down harder. I felt the bone grinding.

I clenched my jaw and forced my head up.

"None of your damn business."

"Three."

He reared back and kicked me squarely in the ribs.

I rolled onto my side, curling into a tight ball as the air left my lungs.

Slowly, agonizingly, I forced myself into a sitting position.

Isabelle was screaming from the sidelines, crying, "Mark, stop! Stop hitting him!"

"You're defending him?" Mark snapped, turning to look at her. "Izzy, open your eyes! He got Sophie killed, he sold you to Richard Dalton, and you're begging for his life?"

Isabelle shook her head, tears flying. "I'm not begging for him, I'm trying to protect you! If you put him in the hospital, you'll go to prison!"

"Then I'll go to prison!" Mark spun back around, hauling me up by the front of my shirt again. "For my sister and my niece, I'll do the time gladly."

The crowd was practically a mob now.

People were yelling, "Give him what he deserves!"

The true-crime vlogger's livestream had crossed ten thousand viewers.

The chat was a unified chorus demanding my death.

Mark slammed me against the stone wall of the courthouse.

"Last chance. Did you kill Sophie?"

I let the silence hang for three seconds.

Then I opened my mouth.

"Yes."

One word.

Martha fainted dead away.

As Robert caught his wife, hot tears streamed down his weathered face.

"My baby... my little girl..."

I leaned against the cold stone, watching the destruction.

The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

I swallowed it down.

"Monster."

"Psychopath."

"Burn in hell."

The curses rained down from every direction.

The bystanders weren't just watching anymore. A middle-aged man in a track jacket stepped forward and shoved my shoulder hard.

"I have a three-year-old at home. You don't deserve to breathe."

I stumbled, the small of my back slamming into the sharp edge of a concrete planter.

A sickening jolt of pain shot up my spine.

But I pushed myself upright.

Mark lunged at me again, fists raised.

Isabelle threw her arms around him, pulling with all her might.

"Mark! Enough!"

"Why is it enough?!" Mark roared, trying to shake her off. "He killed Sophie, he let you get raped, he deserves to be gutted!"

I raised a hand and slowly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth.

I looked at all of them. Every single one.

And then, I smiled.

"Are you all done talking?"

The smile caught everyone completely off guard. The yelling faltered.

"Because if you're done, it's my turn."

I pushed myself off the planter, standing at my full height.

"Does anyone here know what Isabelle was wearing that night?"